


Collection Of Drabbles

by vibraniumkink



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Avengers - Freeform, Drabble, Ficlet, Im new here, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, work in progess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumkink/pseuds/vibraniumkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm posting all my drabbles here. Some I might be continuing. Some are explicit, some aren't. <br/>Being a drabble dump, I will always be updating this; every drabble a new chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highschool AU where Bucky's crushing on Steve. Clint is Bucky's best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is under the same user; here it is.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mattrogersbarnes  
> feel free to message me, ask me, anything :)

“He’d look /so/ good chopping wood.” Bucky said dreamily, staring across the food court in Steve’s direction, seeing right through the students walking past.  
“What?” Clint asked, amused by Bucky’s hopeless crush on him.  
“I don’t live anywhere near a forest, but I’m still into it.” He stares, cheek in his palm as his other hand rolls a balled up napkin between his index finger and thumb.  
"His forearms too--" He fantasizes, fingertips hiding his smirk.  
“What exactly makes a nice forearm?” Clint drags out, curious.  
“It’s very subjective and case-by-case, but I know it when I see one.” Bucky cuts articulately, breaking his gaze from Steve to look at Clint.  
“You’re hopeless, Bucky.” Clint shakes his head.  
“Am not.” Bucky pokes.  
“Are too.” Clint pokes back.  
“Fine, maybe I’m a /little/ head-over-heels for the guy, but I mean, c'mon. I gotta chance, right?” Bucky asks, forever hopeful.  
Clint rolls his eyes,  
“The guy’s out of your league. ‘Sides—is he even gay?” Clint manages between bites of steamed carrots, pulling Bucky's Styrofoam lunch tray toward him to eat the rest of his food. It’s no secret Bucky’s gay, he’s been out since sophomore year. His whole freshman year he was confined to the drama room, the stereotypical hide out for all the oddballs of Shield high.  
“You’d be surprised the way he acts with the other guys on the team, and have you /seen/ him staring in the locker room?” Bucky scrounges up any and every little thing that might point to his arrow not being exactly straight, which was like bleeding water from a stone.  
“I have, but you’re basing it all on stereotypes. This isn’t some high school movie where the hopeless kid gets the popular guy, Bucky. This is real life.” Clint tries to bring him back to earth, but he’s too far gone.   
“You’re gonna get yourself hurt trying.” He says with brows furrowed in concern.  
“Maybe.” Bucky dismisses Clint’s words, too infatuated with Steve to care, and his eyes return to Steve’s broad shoulders.


	2. Bucky hitman AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The name of the hit service, whatever you want to call it, is cheesy. I know. I couldn't think of anything better.

“I mean, I’m fucking standing here out in the cold glaring at my watch, thinking of all the productive things I could be doing.” Bucky leans on the balcony banister, talking into the burner phone.   
“You are being productive—you’re doing your job. He’ll be there within the hour.” A low voice answers. If grizzly bears could speak, that’s how they would sound.  
“Within the hour? It’s already been—” Bucky looks back at his watch, doing the math.  
“It’s been 27 minutes, Ejeca. There’s 30 more minutes 'til 23 hundred.” It’s almost midnight, and Bucky’s getting impatient.  
The other end of the line is silent.  
“Animals don’t have to wait this long for their kill!” Bucky complains. He’s lucky to have a boss he can complain to, especially in the business of organized crime.  
“He’s coming up the stairs. He’s here.” Ejeca answers, hanging up directly after.  
Bucky has mere seconds to get into position. Through the open window, he aims the handgun at the front door, silencer already twisted on the barrel, placed gently on the window sill. With his left hand, he moves the drapes an undetectable amount so the man entering can’t see him.  
Stretching around, he watches the door closely. They’re in close quarters, and so much as a deep breath can make the mission go awry.  
Bucky heard the jangle of keys, and sees the door knob turning. Groceries in his arms, the bald man leaves the key in the lock to set the brown paper bags down on his counter. Going back to retrieve his keys, he pulls the keychain out, puts his keys in his pocket, and shuts the door with his hip: the last thing he’ll ever do.   
Bucky pulls the trigger, and the only noise that’s heard is a quiet click, uncharacteristic of a gun, and springs in his couch squeaking as he falls down, bullet hitting him right in the forehead. Turning the silencer off the barrel, he puts it in his drawstring bag on his back. Bucky slips his gun back in its holster and switching the safety off, he swiftly steps inside and pulls a clean bowl from the dishwasher, putting it on the end of the couch where the blood will soon begin to drip from. He appreciates the plastic covered upholstery, so the clean up crew won’t have to do much.  
He then walks over quietly to the counter, and begins to put away the things he just bought—a comical twist to his murdering routine. Bucky will tell you the reason is because back in boy scouts, his troop leader always told him to leave somewhere better than you found it.   
“Neapolitan ice cream—yum.” He says, taking the half gallon out, barely audible. Opening the freezer door, he’s surprised to see the contents. Hundreds of thousands in American dollars are neatly stacked in the freezer, along with some precious jewels in ice trays. He raises his eyebrows, and looks back at the man he killed.   
“Kooky guy.” He mumbles, putting the ice cream away.  
He unloads several other items, and leaves the nonperishables in the bags. Bucky never worries about prints or DNA being left behind, he’s been wiped from every information holding system on the planet.  
Before walking out, he opens his victim’s lips slightly, and inserts his business card. It reads:  
‘5 Star Kills: ones to make the history books.’ With a faulty website address underneath. Crime fanatics across the globe have tried to make websites under that domain name, all being rejected, saying the website is already in use. Bucky doesn’t know how it works, and neither do the Feds. He looks out the window, surveying the dark alley below. Empty. He slides down the ladder, and lands on his feet in a puddle.  
“Fuck.” He mutters, getting his boots and the bottom half of his pants drenched. He walks swiftly out of the alley (as much as he can with wet shoes) and onto the street, barely lit any better than the alleyway.   
A black Tahoe comes whizzing by, slowing down as they get closer to Bucky. Opening the door, he hops in.


	3. Steve gets stood up and meets an elderly woman

Steve Rogers taps his foot, classic black dress shoe freshly polished. Impatiently, he fiddled with his tie tack, the cold wind beginning to nip at his fingers.   
“Cold?” A woman, bundled in layers upon layers of blankets and flannel asks. He smiles sheepishly, not wanting to say yes. By her appearance, she seems homeless, so he has no room to complain. Padding down the awning covered sidewalk, she smiles back at him, teeth covered in plaque. She sighs deeply, warm air escaping her chapped lips and appearing like steam from an engine. Leaning on the side of the restaurant wall, she lowers herself gradually. Steve stops tapping his foot, and pulls a freezing metal chair next to her, the seat wet with melted snowflakes. He doesn’t see the water, and sits down, immediately regretting it.  
“Someone stood'ja up?” She asks, voice distinctly of a smoker.  
“No ma'am, I’m just early.” He says, looking at her. He pulls up his suit jacket and almost-white-lavender Oxford shirt, exposing his watch. Checking the time, he shakes his head at himself.  
“Better than being stood up.” She smirks, grabbing some sunflower seeds from her pocket, popping a few in her mouth and chewing them whole.  
“Certainly.” He agrees, placing his elbows on his knees and looking down at the falling snow. It hasn’t let up, if anything, its falling harder.  
“Who’s your hot date?” She makes herself chuckle, talking to Steve as if he was a friend.   
“Blind one, a friend set me up.” He answers.  
“I’m here for the same reason!” She laughs heartily, slapping her knee. Steve begins to laugh too.  
“How do we know we’re not dates?” Steve asked, looking at her.  
“I’m charmed, son—but I don’t think we are.” She manages as she puts another handful of seeds into her mouth.  
They make small talk for a good ten minutes, and ten minutes turns into twenty. The subject of him being Captain America never gets talked about, and the snow begins to fall harder.  
“I think you were right, she probably did stand me up.” He stands up to fish his phone from his pocket and calls Natasha.  
“Hey—'broad you fixed me up with pulled a no show.” He says, slightly annoyed. He’s bit haunted by all the time he’s spent waiting in doorways or outside because he’s hideously early out of fear of being late, and when others are late makes it even worse.  
“She couldn’t come.” Natasha answered curtly.   
“And you couldn’t’ve told me sooner.” Steve purses his lips, and looks at the sitting woman he’d made friends with, Edna, and shakes his head at her. Edna over-exaggerates a frown.  
“Sorry, I forgot. Gotta go, Steve. Bye.” She hangs up.  
Steve rolls his eyes, putting his phone back into his pocket.  
“She couldn’t come!” Steve raised his arms out, angry.  
“You could always take me out.” Edna smirks childishly.  
“I had a reservation for two here—The Wild Fork.” He looks up at the name of the restaurant.  
“Seems pretty black-tie.” She looks into the colossal window.  
“Yeah. I had to pay upfront to make reservations.” He puts his hand on his hip, carding the other through his hair.  
“Wanna crash it?” She proposes.  
“Sounds fun, but no thanks.” He half-smiles, leaning on the glass.  
“Help me up, Steve.” She stretches out a pale hand, knuckles pertruding.  
Steve obliges the old woman, and isn’t sure what to do next.  
She smiles sweetly at him.  
“Want me to twirl my hair like I’m young?” She asks, cocking a brow.  
“Whatever floats your boat.” He laughs, putting the chair closer to her so she can sit down, but she waves it off. Just as Edna was going to say something, a waiter in perfectly pressed and pleated clothes comes rushing out, the scent of marinara sauce emerging with him.  
“No loitering! Get out!” He snaps, waltzing back in and scowling at them from the window.  
Edna flips him off from the outside.  
“What a little snot. Let’s go.” She grabs Steve’s arm and begins to walk away.  
“Where?” Steve looks down at her, Edna being nearly a foot shorter.  
“No idea. I haven’t bathed since god knows when, got no money, and I’m wearing all I have.” Despite Edna’s condition, she seems quite cheerful.  
“I think I can give you a place to stay.” He says.


	4. Only a paragraph long Stucky thing

“You’re a bad boy, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, brushing Steve’s bruised cheek. He flinches.   
“Next time just ask.” Bucky smiled.  
“Or—maybe that’s what you like…doing things without permission?” Bucky saunters closer.  
“I like that too. Fruit always tastes better when it’s forbidden.” He’s within inches of Steve now, Steve smelling his cologne, the stuff he wears on special occasions. Bucky was planning this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No context. I don't know what the story would be. Comment your ideas because I have no idea.


	5. Steve is some kind of doctor and Bucky's his patient

Steve looks over Bucky’s chart as he spins back and forth ever so slightly, legs crossed and one on the ground. Steve studies every answer closely, tapping an index finger on the plastic clipboard.  
“Mm—” Steve nods, concluding then looking up at Bucky through thick rimmed glasses, almost a look of parental concern.  
“You left your occupation blank.” Steve quirks a brow, dropping the clipboard on Steve’s desk, immediately leaning back in his office chair with a hand on his chin. The tone was condescending and dry.  
Bucky blows out more air than usual from his nostrils, a sorry attempt at a silent chuckle.  
“My—occupation,” Bucky paused, leaning back,  
“Isn’t something that would look good on paper.” He replied, hands enveloped in each other on his lap.  
Bucky perked Steve’s interest with that, and he started spouting off a litany of “undesirable” jobs.  
“A prostitute?”  
“No.”  
“A garbage man?”  
“No.”  
“A janitor.”  
“No.”  
“You work at an abortion clinic?”  
“No.”  
“A stripper?”  
“No.”  
“A cop?”  
“No.”  
“Phone sex operator?”  
“No.”  
“A landscaper?”  
“No.” The jobs were getting vague, not just bad jobs any more, more like anything Steve thought of, and the no’s kept coming faster and faster.  
“I can’t believe I haven’t guessed it.” Steve was standing up now, palms flat on his desk. Steve’s straight-laced, reserved demeanor was beginning to crack, and it was apparent he had run out of patience.  
“I kill people, Steve. For money.” Bucky answered matter-of-factly.  
There was a long pause, until a rhetorical question broke it.  
“You’re a hitman.” Steve said, like the awkward silence never existed.  
“I’ve been called that.” Bucky secretly loves the reaction he can get out of people when he tells them he kills people.  
“Who do you work for?”  
Bucky is devoid of a reply.  
“Freelance.” He said curtly, lying. He’d been waterboarded and beaten to a pulp before over that same question, one that Bucky never answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I need help finding the context.


	6. Clint teaches Steve and Bucky about threesomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to disappoint but there's no smut. Stick around you might find some.

“Can you give me a description?” Steve asks, acting innocently curious, but of course having an alterior motive. Bucky rolls his eyes, smirking at Steve. Sitting on the couch adjacent to them, he leans in, curious what Clint’s going to say.  
Clint drags a smirk onto his face, priding himself that he’s the one to teach them both about threesomes.   
“Well, we could always take turns—two fuck, one gets a free show. Or I could open you up and fuck you, while you swallow your beloved sarge down.” His smirk grows to a smug, toothy grin, and moves in closer to Steve. Putting his clammy hand on Steve’s thigh, inches from his dick, he teases his hand up slowly, discovering Steve’s a right hanger.  
Bucky would definitely be tearing Clint to shreds if he was doing it with out his permission, and the slight feeling of jealousy ignites into arousal.  
“ ‘Can see it now, you on your hands and knees with a cock pounding into ya’ on either end.” Clint retreats to look at Steve’s blushing face.  
“Those flushed cheeks full with my cock,” Clint entices, whispering again.  
Steve lets out a soft noise that’s reminiscent of a moan, typically gunmetal eyes turning into an azure.  
“We could just take care of each other one at a time.” Clint looks to Bucky, cocking a brow. Bucky’s mouth opens as he watches Clint give him a thorough up-down.   
They’re putty in Clint’s hands.  
“Looking down your body to see someone’s pretty, swollen pink lips around your cock while someone else is rimming you, tasting you and just opening you up with their tongue. That’s what I like—I could have a fist of Blonde hair in one hand, long brown hair in the other.” Clint moves his right hand to Steve’s scalp once he mentions blonde hair, giving the short strands a tug.  
Even though Bucky’s not being touched by anyone, he feels right in the middle of it all.  
“But you know—there’s people just outside who’d hear us.” He teases, voice husky.  
Clint has phenomenal self control, and takes his hands right off Steve, walking back to his room.  
“See you boys when no one else’s around.” He smiles innocently, totally changing demeanor before opening the door.


	7. Bucky gets mad at Steve because Steve won't come out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments and internalized homophobia warning

The sun shined in through the panoramic window, casting beautiful white light on Steve’s face. Bucky opened his eyes, and stretched across the bed. His toes touch Steve’s ankles, and he tangles his legs with his boyfriend’s, feeling his long curly leg hair.  
Whoever wakes up first, kisses the other on the forehead, and it was Bucky today.  
“Mornin’ Captain.” Bucky coos, looking at Steve’s long lashes, picking a loose one from his cheek.  
Steve barely stirs before opening his eyes, looking up at Bucky.  
“Mornin’ sarge.” He smiles, morning breath wafting onto Bucky’s face. He’s used to it though, it’s part of sharing the morning with someone.  
“Every time you look at me its like you haven’t seen me in years.” He mutters, only loud enough for Steve’s ears.  
“Any period of time away from you’s too long.” He grins back, eyes fixed on Bucky’s.  
“I love you.” Bucky said, before kissing Steve deeply, left arm propping him up, his hand feeling Steve’s scalp.  
“I love you more.” Steve managed between locking lips.  
“Why can’t we be this sappy in public?” Bucky retreats from Steve’s face, asking am honest question.  
Steve stretches and groans before answering, scissoring his long legs across the bed to wake himself up. Sitting up, he rubs his eyes and looks at Bucky.  
“There’s a lot of reasons.” He slouches.  
“I got time.” Bucky smiles sweetly, right arm on Steve’s bent knee.  
“Well, for one PDA makes people uncomfortable, I get embarrassed easily, we’re two men, and I’m Captain America.” He looks down, fiddling with the white sheets.  
“What’s wrong with Captain America being a fruitcake?” Bucky asked.  
“I don’t know. I have a reputation.” Steve answers weakly.  
“And I don’t? I don’t have to prove that I’m not some monster assassin?” Bucky raises his voice, now at normal volume.  
“You do, but—” Steve pauses.  
“Or is it you’re ashamed of being seen with me? Is that it?” Bucky’s volume increases again.  
“No, that’s not it. Just think what would happen if I came out.” Steve looked up at Bucky, Bucky holding back a wave of emotion. He refuses to blink, denying his tears from falling.  
“You’re a coward.” Bucky gnashes, quiet again.  
“You care too much what people think. Look around, Stevie! There’s gay celebrities everywhere.” Bucky takes his hand from Steve’s knee, throwing it up in the air.  
“We were—actually, you were blessed with being asleep for seventy fuckin’ years!”  
“It’s a god damn miracle that we’re living today. Do you realize how fucking difficult it would be to love you if we’d just kept on living back then?” Bucky explodes, tears streaming down his face. He’s yelling now, voice cracking.  
“Just fucking do this for me! I’m tired of hiding—you’re so—you’re a pussy! Fucking do this for me, Steve!” Bucky pushes Steve, screaming.   
“Because the way you act outside tells me you don’t love me the way I do.” Those words are like acid to Steve’s ears, and they’re pouring out of Bucky.   
In the next room, Clint is leaning against the wall, listening in.  
“Act like you love me, and stop being afraid. I’m tired of this, Steve.” Bucky rips the blankets from his body, and throws on some clothes, carefully rummaging through their shared dresser to find specifically his clothes.  
Steve’s crying now, face in his palms.  
“Did all your bravery go away when you got big? You used to refuse to let people walk all over you. I need you back.” Bucky shows his streak of sympathy, but quickly turns bitter again.  
“Get over yourself. I’m going out.” Bucky menaces, slamming the door behind him. Bucky doesn’t know where he’s going, but he left his phone so Steve can’t talk to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda feel like I'm doing something wrong, I'm not sure what but I do.  
> Tell me if I am please!


	8. Bucky's gonna watch Steve mow lawns

"I promised Jane that I'd mow her lawn—gotta do some yard work. Sorry babe." Steve hated to refuse a date with Bucky, but he was a man of his word.  
"Ohhhh, is yard work my new nickname?" Bucky asked, sliding his hand down his sweatpants.  
"I thought it was Sarge—but you're welcome to come and help, I'm bound to be shirtless." Steve flirted.  
"But you know, you can come over in the mean time." Steve enticed.  
"On it! Bye." Bucky removed his hand from his sweats, and hung up the phone. He threw on his shirt and flip flops then headed for the door.


	9. Steve visits his mom's grave and Bucky's there

Steve went to visit his mother at the cemetery, as he does every year for Mother's Day. He came to drop off some Lilies, her favorite. But some were already there; with a note tied at the base of the bouquet. Curious, he knelt down and opened it.  
"Don't you know not to someone else's notes?" A familiar voice said, and Steve knew exactly who it was. He didn't even have to look up to know, but he did. Above a pair of muddy black combat boots, stood a sturdy brunette with a metal arm.  
"Hiya, Stevie. Sorry I couldn't make it to Peggy's funeral, heard you were the pallbearer. I'm so, so sorry." He said, casual as can be.  
Steve lost his balance, and fell in the grass.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky gets back from a long day on the docks, and briskly walks up the stairs to the apartment.  
He tries to stay as quiet as possible, pouring himself a nice tall glass of lemonade.  
He chugged it all down, dribbling some on his shirt. He took his shirt off, and wiped his sweaty forehead.  
Walking into the bathroom, thinking steve was asleep, he stopped dead in his tracks once he heard a shuffle under the covers.  
"Bu—Bucky?" Steve managed, barely audible.  
"Yes, Steve?" Bucky ran in, and stroked his cheek.  
"Can you get me some lemonade?" He smiled feebly.  
"Sure!" Bucky beamed, then filled his glass up again. He raced back, and gently handed steve the drink.  
"I'm gonna go take a bath." Bucky said, petting Steve's hair.  
"C'mon." Bucky took Steve's drink and placed it on the vanity in the bathroom. It was routine, whenever bucky would bathe he would sit steve down on the toilet and undress him, and the condensation would help his sinuses.  
Bucky returned, fully nude.  
"Hey there, sarge." Steve hit on bucky, staring at his package.  
"Shut up, punk." Bucky tore the covers off Steve, and unbuttoned his long johns.  
"Lookin' sexy in them long johns." Bucky joked.  
"I can get out my pajamas by myself, you fucker." Steve's bark was no doubt worse than his bite, but bucky stood back anyway, and watched him wince in pain as he struggled to escape the bed.  
"Aw, Stevie. C'mere." Bucky rushed to his aid, quickly peeling off Steve's clothes.  
He then lifted him up in his arms, and kissed his sweaty forehead.  
"I'm cold." Steve said, nestling his head into Bucky's neck.  
"And I stink." Bucky added, carefully placing steve down on the stool, as if he was a delicate glass figurine. He really was as fragile as one.  
They couldn't afford a shower curtain, so there Bucky was, bathing, and Steve sketched his body. Every once and awhile Steve would put down his pencil and take a drink of his lemonade, and go back to sketching. Usually, the two would talk, but this time, this time was different. Bucky took the bar of soap and rubbed it between his hands, forming a foam. With his back to the shower head, he proceeded to spread his legs, and clean himself with his hands. Steve smirked.  
"Like what'cha see?" He arched his back. It was like Bucky knew Steve was staring. Steve quickly averted his eyes, starting a fresh page to draw what he'd just seen. Looking back and forth from his partner to his paper, he noticed Bucky's face peaking out. Bucky smiled as he rinsed. He began to stroke himself.  
"Yes, Sargeant Barnes." Steve put down his pencil as Bucky got out of the tub, water still running. Soaking wet, bucky grabbed Steve's sketchbook to look at his rough sketches.  
"Didn't know you were watching me that time." He pointed to a portrait of himself.  
He turned a few pages.  
"Or those." His eyes went from the paper to Steve.  
He put down the sketchbook, and went back to turn off the water. It was everywhere at that point.  
Steve handed him his towel, and Bucky quickly dried off. Still clammy, he threw the towel over his shoulder and opened the door. He held Steve's hand, keeping him steady, guiding him to the bed.  
Steve began to chatter, feeling extremely cold. Bucky shut him up by pulling him in, and kissing him. Steve began to feel Bucky's damp hair, and Bucky expertly moved around the bed, to where he was at the foot of it, leaning in to kiss Steve.  
He pulled away, then forced steve to lay down, pushing him into the mattress. At that point, both men were extremely hard. He swung his leg over Steve, mounting him. After another brief kiss, he reached to the top drawer of the bedside table, where he scoped around, looking for Vaseline.  
"Are we out?" Bucky asked.  
"Yeah." Steve said, and cupped Bucky's ass.  
"Shit." Bucky said, putting his weight on Steve. The kid could really handle a lot of pressure on him.  
"'S'not the end of the world." Steve reassured Bucky, moving his right hand to Bucky's dick, and began to stroke his length. Bucky looked up at the water stained ceiling, swallowing hard.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve didn't read the weather forecast. It's 53 and steve is fucking freezing after staining his cardigan with coffee, so he takes it off. Bucky, being a gentleman, offers him his leather jacket.  
"Buck, you know I won't fit."  
Steve says, but bucky takes it off and hands it to him anyway.   
"Thanks, babe." The jackets pretty much second skin, but he wears it because he gets cold a lot easier than Bucky does.  
"You look sexy in tight clothes."  
Bucky pinches Steve's ass.  
"Don't start." He beams.


	12. Chapter 12

"C'mon back to my tent, Buck." Steve squeezed Bucky's hands, and gave him a meaningful, passionate kiss.  
"Okay." He agreed hastily, downing the rest of his drink. It was useless because they couldn't get drunk, but the drinks were free.   
He looked around, making sure no one saw them jogging into the same tiny tent.  
(Fast forward a little)   
So after Steve stripped down, he twirls around slowly, let Bucky stare as much as he wanted.  
"Holy fuck, Steve." Bucky said under his breath, leaning back on the cot.  
"Like whatcha see?" Steve asked, biting his finger, though innocent as ever.


	13. Will be continuing

7  
Chapter Text  
"Bucky…babe, can you get the—" Steve hesitated. "C'mon Stevie! I don't got all goddamned night." Bucky interjected over the phone. Steve cleared his throat. "I, I want the bubblegum flavor ones." He managed. Tony immediately shot a look at Steve, eyes widening. He paused the TV. Steve didn't have as nearly a dirty mind as Tony, and for all he thought, he was pretty slick. They could be talking about bubble gum flavored anything; but Tony knew just what was going on. "I feel like you're just gonna chew on them before I can get any on." Bucky laughed. "Ok, right." Steve chuckled nervously, afraid that Tony might've heard what Bucky was saying.  "Anything else you want?" Bucky asked. He was in the back aisle of the adult novelty store, checking out some chains. "Damn." He said under his breath, looking at a gag. He would never get such a thing, he was just curious. (Okay, he would've definitely gotten it, but Steve probably wouldn't approve.) Steve looked back at Tony, before answering. "Plenty." Steve got up from the couch, placing the popcorn on Tony's lap. They were watching 16 candles, and Steve wasn't very interested. It was Tony who was drooling over Molly Ringwald. He slid open the door to the balcony, then stepped out. He haphazardly pushed the sliding door back, not realizing it was still partially open. "Anything, Stevie." Bucky beamed, kneading the gag with his right hand, thinking of it inside Steve's beautiful mouth. "'M thinking of getting a gag." "A gag?!" Steve exclaimed. Tony heard, and pushed the popcorn on the table. He scooted in closer to get within earshot. "Yeah, a gag." Bucky encouraged. "Eh—I don't know. Only thing I want in my mouth is your dick." Steve smiled, and Buck could hear the warmth in his voice. Tony had to bite his finger to prevent himself from saying anything or laughing. It was fucking insane how naughty these two centenarians where with each other, but how chivalrous they were when they weren't alone. Tony always wondered if they were together back then.  "Huh—how bad you want me?" Bucky asked. Bucky definitely wasn't modest, but he headed outside to continue the conversation. "Ohhh, so bad. Just come straight home." Steve begged, and began to pace, growing more and more aroused by the second. He kneaded the phone in his hand. "I need to get lube!" Bucky laughed. "Oh, right. Never forget lube." Steve laughed with him, remembering a time when there was no such thing. They would have to get by on using Vaseline or saliva. Vaseline would always be too thick, and was so greasy. It definitely had a different consistency back then, but not very. He recalled still being able to feel the thick goop between his cheeks days later, even after bathing several times. And saliva—saliva just dried way too quickly, and no one ever really has enough of it. "We could just do it the old way." Bucky proposed, chuckling. "Christ, no. That was so gross. We had to use my painting supplies a few times!" Steve leaned back against the wall. Unfortunately, it was true. Tony couldn't keep his composure, and began to silently giggle to himself.  "Jesus, don't remind me." Bucky headed back into the store. "Okay, but get the gag later, I'm not comfortable with it right now. It's ridiculous enough that we have to have a fucking shopping list for sex supplies." Tony's jaw dropped as he heard Steve. They have a fucking list?! He thought to himself. Damn, he really needs to look into their apartment and snoop around, he hasn't done that in awhile. Tony justified himself by thinking that 'it's his tower' so he gets to go where he pleases.  Bucky was back in the aisle with the chains and other bdsm toys, staring longingly with his head cocked, hair swept to one side as the cashier adored his expressions. "You know—I forgot the list, actually. I left it on the fridge." Bucky admitted. "The fridge's right by the door, c'mon!" Steve countered. Tony squinted in satisfaction, he now knew right where to look. "So what do we need?" Bucky asked after a brief moment of silence. "Lube, condoms, umm…damn.—we need eggs." He interrupted himself. "We can't get eggs here, I'll tell you that." He joked. "Yeah, yeah. I felt like there was something else—but forget it. Just the basics." Steve thought out loud. "Wanna try something?" Bucky asked, playfully. "No, Bucky. Just what we need." Steve answered a bit sternly. "Okayyyyy…love you Stevie. Bye." He groaned reluctantly. "Bye babe." He hung up, looking out on the balcony, taking a deep breath; Which gave time for Tony to get back to where he was. Steve adjusted himself, then returned to the couch, tracing small designs on the suede. "Popcorn?" Tony asked, hiding his face by looking into the bowl. "No thank you." Steve replied politely, and reached to put a pillow over his bulge. Tony smiled mischievously.  Bucky approached the counter, laying the extra large magnums and lubricant out on the table, and the cashier looked up at him, lavender eyeshadow shimmering under the unforgiving fluorescents. "You eight inches?" They asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, no. That's my boyfriend." Bucky would've started up a conversation and asked if the cashier knew much about gags and chains, but he had other things on his mind.  The cashier put the items into a plastic bag that read 'Dana's XXX toy store' in big pink letters across the front. Definitely not discreet.  "I saw you eyein' the gag over there." The cashier motioned toward the aisle. "Oh, yep. I've always been curious about that stuff, but never quite gone through with it." He answered. "Well, come back anytime. I'll be waitin'." They hand over the shop's business card, and they wrote their name and email on the back.  "I'm Bailey." They said. "Bucky, nice to meetcha." He shook hands. "Have fun!" Bailey added as he pushed the door to leave. Bucky tossed the bag in the passenger seat, and proceeded to call Steve.  "Let's get it on" by Marvin Gaye started to play through Steve's phone. It was a joke Sam played on Steve, he changed almost everyone's ring tones. Natasha was the Russian National Anthem, Thor was thunder, Tony was a tornado siren. And for no reason at all, Sam made his ring tone a sea lion noise. "What do you want?" Steve accused, jokingly. "Your face. My face. Let's make it happen." Bucky said. Steve promptly turned beet red, his cheek had accidentally hit the speaker button. He had no idea how to respond. "I almost got the gag, you should've came, we could've fucked right here. We probably would've broken the axel on the car, keeping in mind how rough we fuck." Bucky continued. Steve was frozen, now staring at Tony, and Tony staring back. "I'm so horny, can't wait til I get to be inside that tight ass of yours. I don't know if I can make it home, being this hard." Steve didn't blink at all, he just stared at Tony. He tried to speak, lips parting, but nothing came out his mouth. Bucky started again, not really thinking of why Steve wasn't saying anything. "I'd like to suck you off first though, like old times?" Bucky laughed. Tony grabbed the phone from Steve, and hung up. Steve didn't do anything, he just maintained that vibrant red color.  "I thought you two only started going out this century." Tony remarked, crossing his arms. Steve just slowly rose up, swiped his phone from the arm of the sofa, and began to walk off, totally silent.  Tony listened to his footsteps near his room, and heard the sound of the door shutting, then the door locking. Tony looked up at the ceiling, then began to laugh. He was laughing for so long that the TV was on sleep mode. He gripped his stomach, rolling around the couch when Natasha walked in. "What's so funny?" She asked inquisitively, leaning against the door frame. "Holy shit—oh god. You had to be there." Tony choked out between laughs.  "Something with Steve, huh?" She plopped down next to him. "Yup—" Tony began to cough, unable to control his laughter. "Hooooo—fuck, that was gold!" He gathered himself. "Cap and his technologically impaired self accidentally pressed speaker phone. Bucky was talking dirty." Nat glared at him. "Poor thing! He's probably so embarrassed." She said, smirking. Tony spilt it all, and Nat listened. It reminded her of the time Steve walked in on her and Clint, and the total embarrassment she felt. She was propped up against a wall with Clint thrusting into her. Clint, on the other hand, felt nothing but pride.   
   
Steve was gentlemanly enough to never mention it, so she kept her lips sealed whenever she walked in on either of them. Maybe it was being kind, or just out of sheet awkwardness that Steve never brought it up. Either way, she was thankful that he didn't. Steve was leaning against the door, listening in on the conversation the two were having. Once he heard Tony mention a gag, the world might as well just imploded. Steve was scalding with embarrassment, hoping to God that Tony didn't hear what was being said outside on the balcony. But of course, Tony told Nat everything. Steve knocked his head against the wall out of disappointment.  "Wow, Steve—ya fucked up this time." He said to himself.


	14. Also continuing

6  
It was nights like this—dark and stormy that made Steve miss Bucky the most. Hell, everything made Steve miss Bucky, but these times especially.  It reminded him of the sleepless nights they shared, staying up all night together.  They could never afford much, so their leaky, poorly insulated apartment would have to suffice. During heavy rainfall, they would know right where to put the buckets so their floor wouldn’t rot. Steve, over time, grew fond of the sound of the raindrops berating the tin pales. Bucky did too, and the two men would race back and forth through their house emptying the buckets of rainwater.  Being broke makes you work, that’s for sure.  
Steve leaned against the windowsill, reminiscing about when they would throw caution to the wind and have sex, not caring whether the floors got wet or not. This apartment on the other hand, didn’t have a leak in sight, it was absolutely pristine. It had been a couple months since Steve moved into the tower, and he was still adjusting to Tony always being around. They were both busy men, but Tony always made time to pester Steve.   “‘Cha thinkin’ about?” Tony asked.  “Nothing really. Memories.” He answered.   “Tell me more.” Tony sat down in the chair next to Steve.  Steve looked back, and shot Tony a 'don’t bother me’ face. He didn’t catch on.  “Don’t feel like it.” He said frankly.  “Okay—” Tony threw his arms up, surrendering. He meant well, he always does. But Steve never wants to be bothered. And it drove Tony absolutely crazy how difficult it was to read him, to get into his head.  “You know, I understand there’s quite a generational gap between us, but I feel like if you opened your mouth once and awhile we’d be great friends.” Tony concluded, shutting the door to leave Steve be.   The two weren’t all that different actually. Both gone through extreme trauma, and both fought their demons behind closed doors.  Tony looked up to Steve, and he's always wanted to just spend an evening with him; talking about the war, his father, how life was different. Tony was a science nerd, but he loved history too.  Steve just disregarded Tony, thinking Tony was nothing more than some annoying rich kid. But he did wonder why he resented his father so much; he always remembered Howard as a great man.  Nevertheless, both men were curious about each other.  
Steve stayed looking at the door for a moment, waiting for Tony to come back and say something (as he often does). But he didn't, so Steve just returned to brooding by the window. He just watched the cars pass by, looming through the night.  Steve never moved, just kept staring out the window. Every once in a while a deep sigh would escape his lips, disappointed in what he'd become. An artifact, a cautionary tale. A man who couldn't live without war.  
As he began to doze off, he saw a dark figure walk across the street, not even looking both ways. Cars honked, but the figure didn't stop. Steve soon lost sight of him since the tower is so tall, but he thought the man was entering the building.  It was strange, how the sight of that man made Steve's stomach churn, it made him feel incredibly uneasy. He debated whether or not to leave his room and grab something to eat, he didn't feel so safe. He needed to be in the presence of another human.  
But he didn't leave his room. He just went to turn on some lamps, and take a shower.  He undressed in the bathroom, leaving his clothes in the corner. He leaned over the vanity, staring into the mirror. He inspected his stitches on his stomach, the aftermath of some surgeries. He'd had broken ribs before, but never internal bleeding.  Sometimes Steve felt like the serum was a curse, making him survive all these injuries.   
The warm water stung his cuts, but it took his mind off the emotional pain. He washed himself gently, making sure to inspect all his abrasions he could reach, all of them healing at an impressive rate. That's what the serum did—Clint could have the same gash as Steve, and he would totally heal within a few days. Clint, on the other hand, would take a couple weeks.  He dried off, and sat naked on his bed, checking his phone. The Internet is really an intriguing place, he thought. Natasha had texted him about an hour before. "U ok? Haven't seen u in 4 days." Steve looked up, thinking how long it'd truly been since he left his room. "Holy shit. I haven't left in two days." He said to himself. After that revelation, he decided to get some food, then hit the gym. He got dressed.  
The man that had crossed the street earlier completely escaped his mind.  
"I'm hitting the gym." Steve told Tony, who was glued to the TV. "Wait—" he said, eyes not leaving the screen. "What now?" He asked flatly. "Sit." Tony paused the TV, and removed his feet from the couch. Steve complied, and looked at Tony expectantly.


	15. Chapter 15

Steve missed Buck's eyes so much. Even though he was staring into them, they'd lost their shine. Their warmth. He remembers looking into them, those caring, loving eyes, and feeling like everything was going to be okay. Even though everyone was watching through the two-way mirror, Steve held Bucky's rough, calloused hands in his gentle ones. Rubbing them, eyes watering. The room was cold, dark. Steve's arms were absolutely freezing on the cold metal table. "Remember buck?" He could barely get the words out, as Bucky stared blankly at the mirror. He didn't remember him, at all. "I'm your baby—your Stevie." One of his tears splashed on the table. It pained Steve to let go of Bucky's hand to open up his file. He held up a picture of him, before the serum. "See? That's me. Remember?" Bucky didn't. He stared at the picture and squinted, confused. With his metal hand, he held the picture between his thumb and index finger. "N—no." Bucky set the picture back on the table. "Remember this, Bucky? That's at your 25 birthday party. There I am, right there." Steve held up the sepia photo to Buck and pointed to himself. "I used to be so small. You took care of me." "I did?" Bucky tilted his head, voice hollow. It broke Steve's heart he didn't remember. "Yeah, Buck. You worked three jobs just to pay for the medical bills. I was sick all the time. And, when you weren't working, you were making sure I was okay." "Remember when I was laying in bed, barely breathing? You thought I was dead. You cried, shaking me. You told me you loved me. I told you I loved you too." Everyone behind the mirror was crying at this point. Natasha choked, trembling as she silently weeped. Steve lost everything. "Do—do you still love me?" Buck was empty. He started to cry, too. He looked down, and wiped his eyes. Steve picked his chin up, and showed his a sad, sad smile. "Of course, Buck. I love you so much. I've missed you." Steve started to sob. "I fucking love you. You don't remember, and it's killing me." He managed. "I have nothing, I've always had nothing but you." Steve was reduced to a weak whisper. "I've always had nothing." Bucky said. Steve was certainly glad that he was talking, though so terribly sad, and—actually guilty. He felt it was his fault that Bucky fell of the train, his fault that Bucky doesn't remember. "Hopefully you'll remember this." Steve stood up, and walked around the table to be closer to Buck. He leaned in closer to him. Steve was so scared; not of Bucky, but of the possibility that he wouldn't remember at all. He gently held his face between his hands, and began to lean in, but hesitated. He tilted his head, and kissed him on the lips. Bucky put his arms on Steve. He actually kissed back. Steve pulled back. "St—Steve?" Bucky looked up at Steve. "Yes, doll?" Steve tightly grasped his shoulders. "Stevie?" Buck leaned over to Steve, moving his right hand to Steve's neck. Steve knew how dangerous this was. He knew he could've been so easily killed in that moment. Ever since he woke up, he'd dreamt of death. But now, in that moment, as Bucky initiated a kiss, he took it all back. There was hope. Hope in a hopeless world.


	16. Chapter 16

"Ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”  
“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

"Well, when you say it like that—"  
"How else could I say it?!" Buck laughed.  
"Oh, I don't know." Steve shook his head & grinned, brilliant blue eyes attached to Bucky, looking at him as if he was a work of art.  
Steve thought he really was, for sure.

"So, permanent so far, huh?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.  
"Permanent so far." Steve confirmed.  
"Now—did—uh, hahaha…did everything…"  
"Cat got your tongue?" Steve flashed a smile.  
Bucky exhaled a frustrated chuckle, and bit his finger.  
"Nope, just—" (he cleared his throat)  
"Did everything grow?" He winced in anticipation.  
Steve chuckled.  
"Wanna find out?" Steve looked up, smirking and his big blue eyes were wrapped in lust.  
Buck let out a playful laugh, trying to play it off. But he couldn't.


	17. Chapter 17

Steve blinked rapidly, expelling the sleepiness from his daunted, baggy eyes. It was dark, the sun had likely not been roused at this point. The two had a tendency to outmatch the sun in terms of rising in the morning. Languidly, the blonde turned his head to spare a glance over his shoulder, subtly stretching his powerful muscles in a manner that did not disturb the bed.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tangle of brown hair framing the chiseled features of Bucky's face. His hands were tucked beneath his chin, curled inward like the rest of his body.  
Whether it was out of grogginess or the fact that he knew for sure that the ex-Winter soldier was fast asleep, steve closed his eyes and rolled towards him to spoon. Before his arm could securely wrap around buck, the larger male learned exactly how close he was to the edge of the bed. A horrified squeak, preceded by an even louder thud snapped his eyes wide open. Not only was buck now awake, but also, he was stuck flailing his arms between a bed and a wall. His struggle sent his legs flying into the air, followed by another painful smack.  
“Ow. Nngh. Hwha… ”  
To prevent himself from laughing at bucky's misfortune, inadvertently caused by him, Steve hastily turned back over and closed his eyes once more, pretending nothing had happened on his part. Apparently, helping him wasn’t on the agenda.  
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Buck shot up from the side of the bed, and bounced onto the mattress like a rabbit. He hardly moved as Bucky lept on top of him aggressively, and boy, did that hurt. His metal arm almost hit Steves head, which if it did, it surely would've given him a concussion; and buck's hips smashed against steve's. Menacingly, he whispered by his ear as if he had discovered his deepest, darkest secret and was considering vengeful blackmail—which, he did know Steve's biggest secret, but he would never tell.  
“I know it was you, you shit eating son of a cock loving whore.” His brow furrowed. That was a new one.  
After a moment of no response, he felt buck's nose bump against his cheek once, then twice, and he kissed him on his temple. Before any more of his affectionate headbutts could continue, Steve groaned, rolling over and successfully capturing him in his arms. An expression of sheer delight, accompanied by a squeal of the same caliber, changed his attitude… just before it dissolved into frustration, being crushed beneath him.  
A pleased sigh fell from his lips as Bucky's muffled voice protested against his shoulder.  
"That really hurt ya lil shit!" Then Bucky licked Steves hand, which made him retreat back to his side of the bed.  
"Egh! Gross! Forget making breakfast in bed for you, jackass."  
Buck laughed and rolled over onto his back, stretching like a cat just waking up, accompanied with a satisfying yawn.  
"Wait—BREAKFAST IN BED?!" Bucky sprang up, now sitting at a tension. He squealed, and raised his fists up to his chin and shook them in excitement.  
He hopped over to Steve as he was getting up slowly, lumbering toward the bathroom. Buck grabbed Steve's torso and dragged him back to bed, but before he could say anything, the mattress made a loud creak, then a pop. They both stared at eachother with bulging eyes.  
A spring had broken. The bed framed sounded like a breaking tree trunk. Buck shut his eyes tightly, awaiting something to break, and it did. The bed slammed down to the floor, and they both rolled off the bed in slow motion, but before Bucky could hit his head, Steve's legs went up against the wall.  
"Whew!" Bucky let go of Steve, but then tightly gripped him again, as the force of steve's legs against the wall was moving the bed further and further from the wall.  
"Oh. Shit." They both said in unison.  
Bucks ass plopped down on the broken plank of wood. Buck inhaled quickly. A good 10 seconds went by, then Steve started laughing, loud and strong. Buck didn't think it was funny.  
"Okay. This bed is trying to kill us."  
Buck shoved Steve off him, before jumping up to chase him down. But before buck could catch him, Steve ran into the bathroom, and locked the door.  
"Oh, you are so dead." Bucky laughed angrily.  
"I need to piss!" Steve shouted, opening his boxers.  
"I do too! Open the door, you damn fairy!" Bucky banged on the door.  
"Shhh. I can't piss with you yelling like that, and fairy's not a nice word."  
Steve chuckled mischievously.  
"Well neither is lil shit." Bucky returned.  
"Buck, times are changing. It's a term of endearment now." That made Steve laugh a little louder.  
"Steve! If you don't open thi—" the flushing toilet interrupted buck.  
"Can't hear ya!" Steve shouted, and began to wash his hands. Bucky let out a long, frustrated groan. Steve laughed even harder.  
"C'mon Stevie, open the door! I really need to go!"  
"No."  
"Okay. I wanted to shower with you, then suck you off—"  
Right then, Sam opened the door. He heard the part about sucking someone off.  
"Uh. This isn't a good time, is it?"  
Bucky was used to sleeping naked, so he turned around, revealing himself.  
"Heheheh..." Sam laughed nervously, then nodded. Looking at the broken bed. Suspecting they had had rough sex.  
"Guess not." He shut the door.  
Steve opened up.  
"You asshole! Sam just saw my dick! And it's morning!" Buck pushed back Steve.  
"That. Is. Gold. Telling him you're always that small."  
"You're so gonna get it." Buck remarked, standing over the toilet.  
Steve laughed so hard, and grabbed buck's left boob. He put himself right behind buck, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Buck loved the feeling of Steve's boxers on his skin.  
"Oh boy! when?"  
"Anytime, Stevie." Then Steve gave buck a long, affectionate kiss on his jaw, covered in 5 o'clock shadow.  
"Get dressed, would ya?" Steve smacked buck's ass, and walked off to change into sweats and a tank.  
Buck began to wash his hands, and Steve watched as his cute butt shook a little from the movement of his hands; then he began to lay out buck's clothes for him.  
"We gotta get groceries today. Whatcha want for dinner?"  
"Oooh...chicken pot pie. And just how ms. Sarah made it."  
Steve smirked, remembering all the meals his mother made, and her distinct, gentle voice.  
"Then we gotta go to storage. Don't have the recipe here."  
"Alrighty. You can do that while I get a bed."  
"Get one of those really soft ones."  
"Ughhhh. I like the—" buck slipped on his baggy long sleeve shirt.  
"Firm ones, I know." Steve interrupted, smiling; watching buck inhale the scent of his shirt, which was actually Steve's painting shirt.  
"Haha. Firm." Bucky laughed, putting his boots on.  
Steve was really smiling, furrowing his brows with admiration. He loved how the light was back in buck's eyes. How he started dancing again, how they had the best sex of their lives. How they could finally be a normal couple. Well, almost. They had to save the world on occasion.  
"Ready, alligator?" Buck smiled as he threw on a baseball cap. (It was an inside joke between them. Jacques never really understood American phrases, and once he heard "see you later, alligator" "after awhile crocodile" he started calling everyone alligator.)  
It made them both laugh.  
"Man, Dernier was great. Miss him. But, uh—I was planning on cleaning myself up and eating before we  
went."  
"True. You look like a bum. I'll get groceries on my own." He ruffled Steve's hair.  
"I don't think that's a good idea." Steve hesitated.  
"I'm not gonna kill anybody or anything." Buck said.  
It made all the avengers uncomfortable because buck always threw the assassin jokes around too much.  
"I'm not letting you outta my sight."  
Steve gave buck the look. That's how he knew Steve was serious.  
"Ugghhhh. Okayyyy." He whined, then took off his extra layers, and they headed to the kitchen.


	18. Chapter 18

“I looked deep into your eyes for a long time thinking, maybe one day you’ll be by my side, forever; maybe one day we can get married. We’ll share love, sorrow and happiness until we’re gone."  
"Promise me that’ll happen someday.” Bucky whispered, as he rubbed his hands up and down Steve’s bicep, both men laying on their sides, facing each other. Their hands met, then intertwined.  
“And I’ll always feel that way, cause I’m with you—till the end of the line.” Bucky said, scooting in closer toward Steve. Steve studied Bucky’s soft pink lips, and leaned in for a kiss. Steve pulled back slowly, biting buck’s bottom lip. Bucky pushed Steve gently from laying on his side to laying on his back, and climbed on top of him. They stared into eachothers eyes for awhile, Bucky wishing he could swim in Steve's eyes. He imagined his light blue irises were icy rushing waters, and he was so involved in it that he could practically hear a strong river current splashing on rocks. Bucky dove in for an agressive kiss.   
“I love you so much.” Steve said, gasping as Bucky sucked on his neck & gripped his package.  
“Good.” Bucky said, returning to his side of the bed, then started to take off Steve’s flannel pajama pants, feeling his muscular legs as he peeled them off. Steve grabbed Bucky’s ass as he straddled him again. With Bucky on top, Steve caressed his waist with his other hand. He felt his soft, smooth skin, sending shivers down Bucky's spine. They both wanted eachother; wanted to be close enough to become one being. He pulled Bucky closer. They started making out, kiss after kiss getting more and more heated.  
“I want—need, to spend the rest of my life with you, and whatever comes after it.” Steve said as Bucky peppered his body with kisses, heading toward his navel. Bucky backed up off of Steve to get lower, with intent of sucking him off.  
“I love you. I want you to be my husband.” Bucky looked up so quickly it could’ve given him whiplash. He pounced on Steve, arms shoulder width apart from Steve's neck.  
“Is this a proposal?” Bucky said, eyes beginning to water.   
“You already did. July 4, 1939.”  Buck then looked down and pursed his lips in disappointment.  
“Don’t remember.” He said as his tears fell on Steve. Steve pulled in Bucky for a long hug.  
“I miss having memories.” Buck began to cry.  
“It’s fine, babe. I’ll tell you all about it.” Steve smiled, glancing down at buck, and cradled his head to his chest with big, warm hands. They stayed like that for a bit, just Bucky on his chest, weeping. It really pained Steve to see him go through this. To hear his voice cracking, to hear his pained crying . Bucky sniffled one last time, then looked up at Steve.  
“ ’m sorry I got tears on you.” Buck laughed a little, voice low and nasally from crying.  
“It’s okay baby.” Steve wiped Bucky's tears then flashed the dorky smirk he always gives when trying to cheer someone up. Buck looked seductively at Steve. Steve winked. Bucky grinned, and began working his way down.


	19. Chapter 19

"Well you sure didn't mind watching him take off his shirt now did'ya?" Steve interrogates.  
"Mmm," Bucky drags out, strutting past Steve, making sure to flaunt his behind as he walks.   
Steve's eyes are locked on Bucky's ass as he continues,   
"Shit, if you hadn't walked in when you did, Clint and I would'a tag teamed him." He says, voice melodic and singsongy. Bucky pivots his muscular leg as he starts toward the stairs, whipping his head back and shifting his whole body in Steve's direction, legs wide apart to tease Steve.  
"An' now I guess I'm stuck with you." Bucky says lasciviously, pointing his index finger toward Steve and biting his lip.   
Bucky lets out a short laugh, biting his finger and looking at Steve through his lashes, pupils dilated. As the two walk up the stairs, Bucky's one step behind to grope Steve's ass with a spank.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1, by the way is supposed to be a stereotypical high school crush.


End file.
